


Baby Blues

by AnonymousSinner



Category: Jacksepticeye RPF, Markiplier RPF, Septiplier - Fandom, Youtube RPF
Genre: Bottom!Jack, Dom/sub Undertones, Enthusiastic Consent, Eventual Smut, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Kinda, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Morning After, Morning Kisses, Rough Sex, Roughness, Smut, Tickling, Top!Mark, dom!Mark, don't actually you will die, drinking game: take a shot every time jack's eyes are mentioned, first time together i mean, i would like to apologise for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 08:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7307647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousSinner/pseuds/AnonymousSinner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark has a thing for Jack's eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mark's Affliction

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the video where Jack slaps Mark, every single goddamn video Jack has ever goddamn made, and this gif: http://65.media.tumblr.com/978ce4c6610869ca2a45118efa0b086c/tumblr_inline_o6w342yUGH1tcjknt_500.gif

Mark has a thing for Jack's eyes. Well, really he has a thing for Jack in general, but what stands out most to Mark, what grabs his attention and makes his palms sweat, are his eyes.  


They're blue, you see. They are so, so blue. And Mark wishes they weren't - wishes they were a plain boring brown or pretty much any other colour, because maybe then he wouldn't have this ridiculous urge to stare at them all the time. It's creepy, the staring is, and he knows this. But he can't help himself.  


"I've been waiting for this forever."  


"Yeah, I know you have."  


"Fucking- fuck Septiplier!"  


Jack is in front of him, grinning widely, and Mark is so distracted by those eyes that he barely registers what he’s saying. He manages a reply, stuttering slightly:  


"Yeah, Septiplier is dead. I'll never be your boyfriend!"  


Jack presses his lips together, squints slightly - the blue is partially hidden, and Mark finds himself looking for it - and then slaps him in the face. It's soft, weak, yet his nose scrunches up and his eyes crinkle at the corners as he lets out a nervous, giggly laugh that makes Mark wonder, not for the first time, how a fully-grown man (he has a _beard_ , for God's sake) manages to be this adorable.  


Mark laughs as Felix eggs him on, Jack turning towards the other to protest that he doesn't want to hit Mark _too_ hard. It's cute. Jack is cute.  
Fuck Jack.  


"C'mon, c'mon. Hit me hard," Mark says, partly because he wants to finish filming this, and partly because, well, he wants to see those eyes again.  
_Fuck_ Jack. Fuck his fucking blue eyes. Fuck Jack.  


Could he fuck Jack?  


**Slap!**  


"Ooooh!" Jack winces as Mark lets out a shocked noise of pain, and they both laugh. Mark pushes his previous awfully inappropriate thought right out of his head.  
Jack has a wonderful laugh. His eyes do that squinty thing again. Mark may be screwed.  


"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Jack mumbles, hugging him, and Mark tries not to notice how Jack's cheek brushes against his neck and how warm he is pressed up against his chest.  


"It's okay, it's okay, thank you," Mark says jokingly, and focuses on giving his quick end-of-video speech. Anything to stop his mind from opening _that_ mental drawer. The one labelled "Homosexual Fantasies ft. Your Platonic Friend Jack". Right next to the one called "Inappropriate Sexual Urges™". It is important - crucial, even - for that drawer to remain shut at all times.  
As the camera focuses on Felix and Jack, Mark's gaze shifts sideways, deliberately avoiding those damn baby-blues. He ends the video, says thank you to his friends, and then him and Jack say their goodbyes. Jack is staying at Mark's place, and usually Felix would have joined them tonight, but he has a thing with Marzia or something. Mark's not too sure; he'd been distracted by Jack and his eyes when Felix had explained it earlier.  


Fuck, that's so _sad_. Mark is so sad.  


As Felix's front door shuts and Jack asks him if he wants to play Mario Kart or something when they get back, Mark thinks that he has to do something about this whole "Jack's eyes give me heart palpitations" thing, otherwise he is _definitely_ screwed.


	2. Jack's Irrational Thoughts

Jack fucked up. 

He doesn't know how or when he fucked up, but he did. Because Mark is...

Well. Mark isn't actually doing anything, which is what's worrying, here. They've been playing Mario Kart for a good hour, and he's barely made a sound, aside from the odd annoyed huff. He hasn't screamed or hurled abuse at the screen once, not even when Jack blue-shelled him! 

In retrospect, blue-shelling a guy who is clearly upset with him wasn't the smartest idea. Mark isn't even looking at him, and hasn't looked at him since they left Felix's place.

This weird behaviour is what is making the paranoid, overly anxious part of Jack's brain bubble over with what he knows (logically) are irrational fears and doubts. But Mark is being so un-Mark-like that he can't really be blamed for thinking dumb things. Like that maybe Mark finds him annoying. Or that he doesn't want to be around him. Or that he was only pretending to like him for Felix's benefit and actually can't stand to even look at him; maybe Jack makes Mark feel physically _sick_ –

"Mark," Jack says, and it comes out like a squeak. How embarrassing.

"Hmm?" Mark is fidgeting with his controller, staring resolutely at the screen like he's trying to pick the perfect kart. Which you know, fair enough, except Mark always has this stuff planned out, so he automatically picks the kart he feels goes best with whichever course they're going to be playing. Yet now, he's flicking through all of them, agonisingly slow. He looks like he's genuinely thinking about using the shittiest bike in the entire game, for fuck's sake.

"Did I ah, do somethin'? Wrong, I mean. To you, specifically." 

"W-what? No? You're good, Jack, don't worry." Mark stares at the screen even harder, the tips of his ears turning pink.

"Well... It's just that... Ya hav'n't looked at me since this mornin', 'nd I... I dunno, if I did do somethin', I'm really sorry." Jack glances at Mark, who has now turned his gaze to the floor. He's unsure if this is an improvement or not.

"I, uh. Sorry, Jack. I'm just not feeling too good, I guess." Mark clears his throat.

"Oh. Ya got a stomach bug, or?"

"Nah, I'm just tired."

"Ah, yeah. Ya haf'ta go to bed early, then."

"Hm."

Jack has never felt more uncomfortable in his life.

"Should I... I mean, I can stay at a hotel if ya need me ta-"

"No!" Mark cuts him off, and it's almost a shout. Jack stares at him, and this time, Mark stares back. 

"Um." Jack scratches at his chin, unsure of what to say.

"I, uh. I'll be right back. Stay here," Mark stutters, and all but bolts out of the room.

If this were anyone else, Jack would probably just say "Fuck it" and get the hell outta dodge. But this is Mark, and Jack really, really doesn't like the idea of Mark being mad at him. Because he is mad. At least, Jack thinks he's mad. It's hard to tell. He looks normal. Unfairly handsome, but that's the usual, as far as Jack's concerned (he's stopped trying to ignore the fact that he finds the other attractive because doing so only makes him frustrated - sexually and emotionally).

He sighs. A few hours earlier, his heart had done a backflip when Felix announced he wouldn't stay for the night. It's not that he doesn't love Felix, it's just. The idea of being alone with Mark always makes Jack feel both incredibly nervous and incredibly excited, which never really happens with anyone else, at least not in that specific way. Now, that bubble of giddiness he'd felt crawl up his chest earlier has deflated like an old balloon, and Jack feels a weird sense of impending doom. 

He hears footsteps; Mark's coming back. Bitterly, Jack thinks that this could be the sound of the Armageddon. His own personal apocalypse, where the guy he may or may not have a huge crush on may or may not tell him to get fucked, or something like that.

"Want a cherry coke?" 

"Huh?" Jack looks up, confused. Mark is holding two cans of cherry coke and is smiling at him. It's a kind, non-apocalyptic smile.

"A peace offering. My last cans. I've been douchey." Mark sets the cans onto the coffee table, and falls back onto the couch.

"Oh. Sure. Thanks." Jack blinks. He's so confused.

"Look, Jack, I promise I'm not mad at you, or anything," Mark says, and he sounds so tired. 

Tired of Jack.

It's a stupid thought, but it's there, and he can't pretend it never crossed his mind.

"It's okay if ya are, I mean. I know I can be annoyin' sometimes, and it's okay if ya'd rather be alone for a while. I don't want ya ta feel like ya haf'ta hang out with me or anythin', so if ya want me ta go..." Jack trails off. He really, really hopes Mark tells him it's all fine, that he can stay. He feels his mouth get dry.

Mark shifts. He doesn't say a word.

Jack glances up at him, and it sucks, but he can feel the prickling of tears. It's so _stupid_ , he's being such a drama queen, but months – _years_ \- of pining and restless nights and musings and hoping, fuck, the endless hoping and daydreaming... It's all hitting him right now. Because Mark is right there and Jack's been so busy worrying about whether he'd ever feel the same way that he's never bothered to entertain the thought that maybe Mark doesn't like him at _all_. And now he's trying to play everything back and sure, Mark has always been a bit more reserved with him than with his other friends, but Jack always figured it was because they hadn't known each other for as long. God, what if Mark only agreed to do that first video with him out of pity, what if-

Mark grabs the front of his shirt, yanks him forward, and kisses him full on the mouth. Jack's brain short-circuits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like it so far! Constructive criticism is always appreciated, as is literally any other comment!


	3. Mark's Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where the kissing happens

Jack thinks Mark is mad at him. Mark made Jack think he's mad at him.

Mark is a goddamn piece of shit.

He shifts in his seat, trying to find the right words, to set things right, and he's about to open his mouth and start spouting a litany of apologies when Jack looks up at him. And Mark realises Jack doesn't think he's mad at him. Jack thinks Mark hates him. And his eyes - those beautiful baby-blues - are filling with tears at the mere thought.

Mark can actually hear his heart shatter. Jack is about to cry because of him. And he can't have that. He just can't. So, without a single ounce of common sense, Mark grabs the front of that grey striped sweatshirt and kisses him. Call it a reflex. Survival instinct. Fight or flight. 

Jack freezes, and Mark... Fuck, Mark is panicking. Does he pull away? How does he even explain this? He's screwed everything up now, hasn't he? What does he do?

But then Jack lets out a sound of pure relief and wraps his arms around Mark's neck, pressing himself up against him. Mark nearly has an aneurysm.

The kiss is sloppy, desperate, uncoordinated, and Jack is letting out these soft little noises, like he can't believe this is happening. Mark can't believe it either. He's kissing Jack.

_They're kissing._

"Ya, hmpf, ya don't hate me," Jack gasps, pulling away, and his eyes are so wide, full of that same wonder Mark recognises from all the times they were at conventions and Jack couldn't believe how lucky he was. He lets out a bubble of hysterical laughter and kisses him again, a firm peck of the lips.

"No. I don't hate you at all, Hell no," he manages, and the smile Jack gives him takes his breath away.

"Thank God," Jack says, and pulls him into another kiss, threading his fingers through Mark's hair. This kiss is softer, more relaxed, and Mark can feel just how warm Jack's lips are against his. Slowly, he licks at Jack's bottom lip, revelling in the quiet, surprised moan that escapes him. As their tongues meet, Mark leans forward, and without breaking apart, they end up with Jack lying flat on his back on the couch and with Mark hovering over him. Jack sinks back into the couch cushions, sighing against Mark's mouth as his arms come up around his back and his fingers grip the fabric of his shirt.

"Fuck," Mark murmurs, pulling back - he needs a second to breathe. Jack is panting slightly, his hair tousled, his lips red and kiss-swollen, and his eyes beautifully, impossibly blue. 

"Fuck," Mark says again, and he has a newfound appreciation for his couch. This is possibly the best use he's ever made of his couch, and it's doing the job perfectly. Jack giggles (he fucking _giggles_ ), and Mark watches a strand of green hair fall down to cover his left eye. Gently, Mark reaches out and brushes it away, his thumb gently stroking the skin above his eyebrow, before moving it down the side of his eye to rest against his cheekbone. The skin there turns a beautiful shade of pink, which somehow makes Jack's eyes look even bluer. Embarrassed, the Irishman wriggles down the couch slightly - an unconscious attempt to make himself smaller as his hands slide up to rest on Mark's shoulders. Automatically, Mark rises up on his knees, so that he can grab Jack's wrists to pin them either side of his head. He does this to stop the wriggling - he doesn't want Jack to shy away - but the effect it has is... It's revolutionary.

"Oh," Jack whispers, cheeks going from pink to bright red, and Mark stares in awe as his pupils grow larger and his tongue nervously licks across his lips. Jack swallows, and Mark feels his wrists move oh so slightly, as if testing Mark's strength. Experimentally, he tightens his grip. Jack bites his bottom lip. This is the best day of Mark's entire life.

"Got a kink there, per chance?" Mark hears himself say, and he worries for a split second that this is too soon, but then Jack fucking _whimpers._ It's so quiet he can barely hear it, but it's there. His eyes widen beautifully in surprise, like he can't believe he just let that sound slip. Mark grins.

"Oh, this is gonna be so much fun," he says gleefully, before capturing Jack's lips once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to anyone who has commented so far and read this and liked it and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!!! You're all so sweet! ily all!!


	4. Introduction to Jack's Biggest Kink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry

Jack is dreaming. He's having an elaborate subconscious experience involving a newly-discovered erotic fantasy of his and the very realistic assault of his senses by one imaginary Mark Fischbach. That's the only possible explanation for what he's feeling right now.

Mark's mouth is hot and demanding against his, his fingers are wrapped around his wrists in a strong yet painless grip, and he's slotted himself effortlessly between Jack's legs. Mark is between his legs. Mark is kissing him. Mark has discovered one of Jack's biggest kinks that he himself didn't know he had and is shamelessly using it to his advantage.

"Jesus Christ," Jack gasps, and Mark doesn't even wait for him to take a breath before attaching his lips to his neck and sucking at the skin. Jack chokes on a moan, hips bucking up of their own accord, and he feels Mark smirk against his skin.

"T-this... This is so... Hnngh... This is so unfair," Jack manages, because he's basically at Mark's mercy and he's being turned into an incoherent mess by the man's ministrations even though they’ve only been doing this for like, ten minutes.

"Hm, I don't know. I don't think you mind so much," says Mark, pulling back to admire the marks he's made on Jack's neck. Jack glares at him. It's a feeble way to fight back, but it's all he has.

"Your eyes," Mark murmurs, "are the sexiest, most beautiful things in this world." 

Jack blushes so hard he can feel his face heat up like he just opened the door to a 200°C oven.

"F-flattery will get you nowhere, Fischbach," he quips, because he's not going to come in his pants from being held down and complimented. He's _not_.

"No?" Mark smiles, and then leans down so his lips brush the shell of Jack's ear. "What about this?" he whispers, and rocks his hips down firmly against his.

Jack loses his last shred of dignity with the moan he lets out, then. The friction is so unexpectedly good, and the low laugh coming from Mark only turns him on more.

"Oh, fuck _you_ ," Jack moans, letting his eyes fall shut, because this is ridiculous. One man should not be having this big of an effect on him. 

"I'd rather fuck you, babe."

"Jesus _Christ_!" Mark is actually trying to kill him. That voice is responsible for a solid 70% of Jack's wet dreams, and now he's actually hearing it say _that_. May the Lord have mercy on his soul.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful. Look at you, moaning so prettily for me." Mark is kissing his way down Jack's neck, sliding one hand down his body to slip it under Jack's shirt, his touch hot and wonderful and no way near enough.

"Mark..." Jack whines, arching his back, because that's all he's really capable of, at the moment.

"God, you were wondering why I wasn't looking at you. I couldn't, not with those eyes. Fuck, your eyes, Jack. Do you have any idea how long they've been tormenting me?" Mark slides his hand up Jack's chest, fingers finding his nipple and pinching it lightly. Jack moans, bringing his free hand down to fist itself in Mark's hair. 

Mark immediately pulls back, and Jack whines in protest at the loss of contact, but Mark just grabs his wrist and pushes it back where it was.

"Keep them there, baby. I don't want you to move them. Can you do that for me?" Mark's voice is low, commanding, making Jack shiver, but he nods, biting his bottom lip. Mark smiles at this, leaning down to kiss him sweetly.

"So beautiful like this," he murmurs, "eyes blown wide... Fuck, Jack, I couldn't look at you earlier because it was taking every ounce of my self-control to not slam you against the nearest wall and have my way with you."

"Don't think I - Oh - woulda been against that," Jack manages, bucking his hips up into Mark's. Mark growls at that.

"Yeah? God, I've been wanting to do this for so long. Wanting to see you moan, wanting to see what you look like getting fucked."

"Fuck, _yes_ ," Jack gasps, and Mark is tugging at his shirt, lifting it up and over his head before sucking one of Jack's nipples into his mouth. Jack keens, shuddering at the feeling. 

"Goddamn, how long have you wanted this?" Mark asks, running his hands up Jack's sides and delighting in the goose bumps that he feels in response to his touch.

"Fuck, Mark. Been wantin' this forever. Just didn't know ya wanted it too," Jack pants, and he's writhing about, wanting more, needing more. Mark pulls away from his chest, stares at him like he's memorising every last detail of his face, before looking him directly in the eyes.

"I've wanted you since the first time I met you, the first time I saw those eyes in person. Been wanting to see you reduced to a quivering mess, hear you moaning my name since then, Jack."

Jack all but passes out, and the last coherent thing that leaves his mouth is a wrecked, desperate " _Please_ ".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao rip i hope u liked it


	5. The One With The Sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good morning lovelies; here is your daily dose of porn

Mark doesn't remember how they got to his room. He thinks there may have been sloppy kisses against walls; he figures they stumbled their way up the stairs? If he's honest, he doesn't care. All he needs to know is that somehow, miraculously, Jack is in his bed, and he's pulling at Mark's shirt like the mere fact of him wearing it is the highest form of offence known to man. Mark is nipping at Jack's neck, and _fuck_ , he tastes so good, and everything is a blurry, hazy mess of kissing, touching, and Jack's soft moans.

He can't think straight. 

"Wait, wait," Mark gasps, pulling back. He needs air. 

Jack makes a noise of frustration, looking at him with wide, needy blue eyes, and Mark's mind is blank for a good three seconds before he remembers what he was going to say.

"Is this okay?" 

Jack blinks, confused, and his hair is an absolute _mess_ and he looks utterly adorable all of a sudden. Mark chuckles, pressing a kiss to his nose. It's an abrupt change of pace, but he has to be certain Jack's on the same page.

"What do you want, Jack?" Mark asks, his voice soft.

"You," Jack replies, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Mark rolls his eyes, but he can't hide his grin.

"Thanks, I figured. I mean, how far do you want this to go?"

"As far as you wannit t'go." Again, the reply is immediate, and Mark is about to protest, to say he doesn't want him to feel like he has to do anything, but Jack interrupts him.

"Mark, I just want you. I've wanted ya for - for months now. So whatever ya'll give me, I'll take. Just please, get the fuck on with it."

"Jesus, okay," Mark says, and he's laughing softly as he leans down to kiss his way down Jack's chest.

They're silent for a while, save for the sounds of lips on skin and Jack's laboured breathing. Mark drags his hands down the Irishman’s sides, scratching softly at the skin before curling his fingers around the waistband of Jack's jeans. This is completely new territory, and Mark knows he's about to cross a huge line. But, as he looks up and meets Jack's lidded gaze, he realises that it's too late now anyway. Their friendship is effectively ruined.

Go big or go home.

Slowly, not breaking eye contact, Mark pulls Jack's jeans and boxers down his legs. Jack whines low in his throat, kicking them off when they're low enough and making grabby motions towards Mark. The other man crawls back up the bed, draping himself over him and kissing him deeply.

"Hmm... Clothes... Off," Jack mutters, tugging at the hem of Mark's shirt again. Mark obliges, pulling it over his head. Jack wraps his arms around Mark's neck, pulling him down, and they both moan when their chests touch. Jack's skin is so soft and warm against his - Mark can hardly believe his luck.

Their kisses turn rough, frantic, and Jack pushes agitatedly at Mark's jeans. It doesn't take long for Mark to shimmy out of them, leaving them both naked. He's expecting to have an inner freak-out at that, but it doesn't happen. Instead, he eagerly grabs Jack's legs, tugging him bodily down towards him so he can nestle himself between milky white thighs. Jack's shocked moan is the best thing he's ever heard, and it confirms his suspicions. 

"Being held down, manhandled... Like it rough, do you?" he murmurs, and grins slowly when he hears the other's breath hitch in response. He sucks at Jack's pulse point, grabbing his wrists again and holding them firmly against the mattress.

"Fuck, Mark..." Jack moans, bucking his hips in a desperate attempt to find friction.

"Yes, in a minute," Mark says casually, laving his tongue over the bruise he just made, "First though, I need you to hold on to that headboard. Don't really trust you to keep your hands there by yourself. Can you do that for me, Jackaboy?"

Jack whimpers, nodding wildly before reaching up to wrap his fingers around the bars of the headboard. Mark hums in satisfaction before reaching under his mattress, rummaging around for the bottle of lube he hopes is not expired. He bought it ages ago when he was feeling experimental, but hasn't touched it in days, mainly because he hasn't had the time to do much else than quickly jerk off before passing out at 4 in the morning after a long day of work. But now, he's got all the time in the world, and he's going to make good use of it. 

"Aha!" He pulls the bottle out triumphantly, and yeah, it's still good. He glances at Jack, who's giving him a fond look.

"You're such a doof," he says, laughing when Mark pinches his nipple in protest.

"Shut up," Mark says, and he knows - he _knows_ that Jack is going to say "Make me", so he kisses him before he has the chance to. 

Keeping Jack from being a smartass at any given moment requires skill, and if Jack's happy sighs are anything to go by, Mark thinks he's doing a pretty good job. He's pliant and submissive, letting Mark take the reins completely, which is great, because Mark wants to savour this, wants to explore every inch of soft skin, find every sensitive spot Jack has, wants to make him shudder and moan until he's got no voice left.

Slowly, Mark pours lube on his fingers, warming it up in his hands before glancing up at Jack, silently asking for permission. Jack nods, licking his lips, and his eyes are wide and trusting and such a brilliant blue. Mark thinks that he's never seen anyone more beautiful. Jack blushes a deep red, and Mark realises he's spoken his thoughts out loud. He smiles, reaching down to gently press against Jack's entrance. He leans down to kiss him, waiting to feel his body relax, before sliding a finger inside. Jack visibly shudders at the feeling, teeth sinking into Mark's lower lip as he exhales shakily.

"So responsive," Mark whispers, and ducks his head to mouth at the other's neck before gently adding a second finger. Jack keens, tilting his head to give Mark better access. His fingers are gripping at the headboard and his eyes are squeezed shut, like it's taking all his self-control to not move his hands - to not disobey Mark.

Fuck. That's hot. 

"You're gorgeous like this," Mark says, because it's true. He curls his fingers upwards, gently prodding until he hits the right spot. When he does, he's rewarded by a choked off moan, blue eyes snapping open in shock.

"F-fuck, again," Jack begs, and he already sounds _wrecked_. Mark brushes his fingers against Jack's prostate once more, captivated by the soft, needy whimpers spilling from his lips. As Mark fucks him with his fingers, Jack slowly grows louder, whimpers turning into moans as he rocks his hips in time with Mark's hand. 

"More, please Mark, I need -" Jack's cut off mid plea as Mark scissors his fingers, stretching him enough to add a third. Jack groans loudly, and for the first time, moves a hand away from the headboard to cover his mouth. 

"No, Jackaboy. Put that hand back. I wanna hear you," Mark says, and he surprises himself by how assertive he sounds. Jack whines, but does as he's told, and he looks so desperate with his flushed cheeks and wet lips that Mark can't wait any longer. He pulls out his fingers and grabs a condom from his bedside table, carefully opening the packet with his teeth as he wipes his fingers on the sheets. 

"This okay?" He glances down at Jack as he rolls the condom onto his cock, and that slight touch feels way too good - he's painfully hard already.

"Yeah, Mark, c'mon, wanna feel ya," Jack says impatiently, bucking his hips. 

"Christ, aren't you eager," Mark says, like he isn't half mad from want himself. Slowly, he guides his cock to Jack's hole, and locks his gaze with bright blue eyes as he slides in.

"Fuck, yes," Jack moans, wrapping his legs around Mark's waist to pull him flush against his hips, and Mark is - Mark's gonna die. It's so hot and tight and warm he can hardly stand it. 

"Jack, oh God..." Mark rests his forehead against Jack's, waiting for him - for both of them, really - to adjust to the feeling. If he starts moving straight away, he'd cum on the spot, and he doesn't want that. That would be bad. For his pride, mainly. Jack would probably never let him hear the end of it.

"I'm okay, I'm good," Jack breathes, and his cheeks are flushed and his hair is sticking to his forehead. It's both adorable and unfairly sexy, so Mark kisses him for what feels like the hundredth time this evening, soft and slow. Jack makes a quiet nose of surprise at how gentle the act is, and Mark can't stop himself from smiling through the kiss.

"Beautiful," he says again, and Jack turns his head, shyly avoiding Mark's gaze.

Mark can't have that.

"Look at me, Seán." It's sort of cheating, using Jack's real name, especially since he doesn't actually remember having used it before today. But it has the desired effect of making Jack's eyes snap back up to his, and having him suck in a sharp breath. Mark rests his weight on his forearms, sliding his hands up to gently wrap around the other's wrists as he gently bucks his hips forward. Jack's mouth falls open, his eyes fluttering shut. Mark unintentionally tightens his grip.

"Ya really have a thing for my eyes, don't ya?" Jack says, those famous baby-blues opening to give him an amused look. 

"I might do," Mark admits, and Jack grins.

"Irresistible to ya, I am." His tone is teasing, he looks smug. Mark raises his eyebrows, pulls his hips back, and snaps them back forward. Hard. Jack's breath leaves him in a loud gasp.

"Point taken," he chokes out, fingers curling into fists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> consent is important children!
> 
> i hope u liked it! comments are much appreciated!! next chapter tonight ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	6. The One With The Orgasms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to anyone who has read this so far! Your comments make my day; I love you all! The last chapter of this will be uploaded tomorrow, but in the meantime, here is some more porn for you. I gotchu covered, fam.

Jack might die. There is a very real chance that he may be killed. Through sex. With _Mark_.

That's not a bad way to go, really, because fuck, does it feel good. Mark is kissing and nipping at his neck, leaving bruise after bruise - Jack can't even begin to fathom how he's going to hide them but at this moment in time he doesn't give a rat's ass - and his thrusts have a steady rhythm, slow and deep. He's got the angle just right, hitting Jack's prostate nearly every time, and Jack's cock is trapped between their bellies, the added friction driving him insane. 

"Fuck, _fuck_ , Mark," he moans, and he wants so badly to rake his nails down the American’s back but his hands are still pinned to the mattress. He could move them if he really wanted, he knows this, but there's something about surrendering to Mark like this, obeying him, letting him do what he wants... it's an indescribable feeling. Jack vows to do more research on fetishes after this, because he's always considered himself to be very vanilla, yet here he is, reduced to a stammering, incoherent mess. Because Mark is pinning his wrists to the bed. Pitiful. 

And then there's the dirty talk. Jack never really thought much about talking when it came to sex. He knew about the obvious sex noises, he knew about asking for consent, all that. But talking during sex seemed borderline weird, and he'd shrugged it off without really looking into it. How wrong he'd been. Mark's voice is pure sin, every word dripping sex and want and affection. It's the latter that gets Jack the most, because mixed in with pure filth, the sweetness of Mark's words rush over him like a wave, and he can hardly breathe. 

"Fuck, so warm and tight around me. You feel fucking amazing, Jack. So good for me, so beautiful. Christ, look at you," Mark murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of Jack's ear, his warm breath tickling his cheek. He's so close, and although he's got Jack completely at his mercy, he's being agonisingly gentle. And Jack can tell, from his laboured breathing, that he's holding back, that he's trying not to hurt him. It's adorable, but for all he knows, this could be the only time they do this. So Jack wants everything Mark has to give him. 

"I won't break," he whispers, and Mark lets out a breath of laughter, moving to kiss him. He picks up speed slightly, his hands coming off Jack's wrists to help hold himself up. It's not enough. Jack wants more.

"Mark," he whines softly, making himself sound almost like a child denied a treat. Mark falters slightly, pulling back to get a good luck at him. Jack makes his eyes as wide and innocent as he can, and moves his hands to Mark's chest, scratching the skin. And that does it.

"What did I say about your hands, baby boy?" Mark growls, his voice dangerously low, and Jack whimpers from the use of the pet name. Again; he needs to look up fetishes. Mark clearly knows more about his kinks than he does. And that's bad. In a very, very good way.

"It's hard not to touch," he manages, and Mark chuckles darkly. Jack feels a shiver run down his spine.

"That's not an excuse, sweetheart. But fine, if you can't be good, I'll help you." Mark gathers Jack's wrists in his hands again, his grip like a vice, but still painless. Never hurting him, just making him feel... Grounded. Safe. Jack's not going to go through the details of why he likes this so much just yet, but he thinks that's the main thing.

"So tell me, baby boy. How do you want it?" Mark asks him in a low murmur. His hands are so, so warm, and Jack feels his mouth get dry. He wants him to actually _say_ it?

"I want you to say it. Tell me how you want it." 

Oh, Jesus. Jack blushes fiercely, but swallows back his embarrassment and looks Mark directly in the eye as he answers him:

"Want ya to fuck me the way ya really want to."

Mark smiles then, shaking his head fondly. He kisses Jack, their tongues tangling, and it's sweet and soft and familiar. 

"Well today,” Mark murmurs, lips brushing Jack’s as he speaks, “I'd like to fuck you so hard you feel it for days. Want to make you scream, want to see you fall apart. That okay, Jackaboy?"

Jack whimpers, nodding frantically. Then Mark's words become clearer in his hazy brain, and he shyly prompts; "Today?"

"Mmh hmm," Mark acquiesces, "I'd really love for there to be other times like this. I want to explore every inch of your body, find every kink you have. I wanna get to know you in every way I can."

Jack's speechless, because this means that there'll be a next time. Mark wants a next time. He stares at the American, and Mark looks so fond, so caring, that Jack almost bursts into tears from how lovely it feels to be the reason for that look.

"Yes, yes please. I'd love that," he manages, and then they're kissing again. Jack's desperate, licking and biting at Mark's lips, and Mark groans. He moves his hips back so that he almost slips out of Jack and then roughly slams back in. Jack's pushed up the bed from the force of it, and he moans loudly as Mark picks up a bruising pace. Jack loses himself in the different sensations; Mark's lips against his, Mark's hands moving from his wrists to intertwine their fingers, Mark's cock hitting his prostate, pleasure shooting up Jack's body like electric shocks, Mark's lips moving down to kiss lovingly at his neck whilst simultaneously fucking him into the mattress... He's drowning, it feels like, and he loves it.

"Fuck, _yes_ ," he whines, and his legs are burning from the effort of having them wrapped around Mark's waist for so long, but the angle is so fucking good.

"So beautiful, so perfect, look at you," Mark mumbles, and he's muttering praise after praise until Jack can't even discern separate words. They're both too far gone to make any sense.

"Mark, Mark, Mark," Jack chants, like it's the only word he remembers; the only word he cares about. The pleasure is building, he's getting closer to the edge with every thrust, every hot press of lips against his skin. 

"Yeah, baby, you gonna cum for me soon?" Mark purrs, and Jack lets out a hopeless sob. He's going to die from being too turned on. What a way to go. 

"Uh huh, so close, _fuck_ ," he whines, and he can't find any more words, his mind is blurry; all he can do is feel Mark's touch, hear the sound of skin slapping skin, smell the scent of sweat and sex and Mark's cologne, and it's too much and not enough, he needs more –

"Good boy, go on Jack, let me make you cum." Mark reaches between their bodies to tug at Jack's cock, and _Jesus Christ_ , it's so good he can't bear it, he –

"Mark, oh, oh, _fuck_ ," Jack cries, and then he's cumming, painting both their chests white, and Mark moans loudly, following suit. He fucks Jack through both their orgasms, and Jack squeezes his fingers hard as they both come down from their highs, panting from exhaustion. 

After a few moments of just lying there in a sweaty, fucked out heap, Jack feels Mark slowly pull out of him, and watches him toss the condom in the direction of his bin. He misses by a good five inches, but they’re too tired to care (plus, it’s Mark’s carpet, so). Mark gently takes hold of Jack’s wrists, pulling them carefully towards him – Jack’s arms ache from having been pinned above his head for so long – and pressing a sweet, soft kiss to each one. Jack shivers. He suddenly feels very vulnerable, and Mark senses this, wrapping a strong arm around his waist and pulling the Irishman flush against his body. He noses at Jack’s temple, one hand reaching up to brush sweaty green hair away from hot skin.

“S’okay, baby, you’re good. So beautiful, Jack,” he whispers, and Jack lets out a contented purr as he buries his face in Mark’s shoulder.

“You okay?” Mark asks him, and Jack smiles, nodding his head tiredly. He feels Mark chuckle, and then there’s a hand stroking the small of his back. Jack has so many more questions, so many things he wants to know, but lying here, wrapped up in Mark’s arms, his mind shuts up. Jack feels to urge to say one more thing – thinks he mutters it, isn’t really sure. His eyes feel so, so heavy. They’re closing, now. He can’t keep them open. Reality is drifting away; everything is warm and soft and he can feel Mark’s heartbeat, he thinks. It’s nice, so nice.

Jack falls asleep to the rhythm of Mark’s breathing, the beating of his heart, and the stroking of his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	7. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Top of the mornin' to ya laddies! 
> 
> ok in all seriousness though i love every single one of you!!! the support i've gotten for this fic is waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more than i ever imagined and every single comment is so so lovely and i love all of you!! thank you so much!!! This here is the last chapter; it's quite short but i hope you like it!!

Sunlight filters through Mark’s window, ignoring the shitty curtains that are only half closed and bathing the room in soft, golden light. It’s a beautiful day.

Mark’s been awake for an hour now, he thinks. He hasn’t checked. He’s lying on his side, looking at the person sleeping next to him. Jack’s hair falls across his forehead in messy curls, his lips are slightly parted, and the duvet pools around his waist. His throat and upper chest are covered in marks, ranging from pink to red to purple. They’re stark against pale white skin, and Mark carefully reaches out to touch a darker one, just above his collarbone. He did that.

Memories of last night all came rushing to him the moment he woke up, and he’s still sorting them out, wanting to have them catalogued, saved, so that he never forgets a single one. He wants to remember every single kiss, every single touch, every single glimpse he had of blue eyes. They’re hidden right now, those eyes, and Mark finds he actually misses them. He misses the joy and humour they carry, how expressive they are. He misses how they light up any room Jack’s in.

He wishes he could have seen them, last night, when Jack said what he said. He’d hidden his face in Marks shoulder, exhausted, and Mark thought he’d already fallen asleep before he said it. And he’d said it so quietly, barely even a whisper, that it would have been easy for Mark to think he’d imagined it, if not for the feeling of Jack’s lips brushing his skin as they shaped the words.

_“Love ya. Don’t go.”_

And it’s not like Mark would, because this is his flat, but he knows what Jack meant. And it breaks his heart that the Irishman even considered the possibility of Mark wanting to leave. That’s why he’s still lying here, just looking at him. He was going to make breakfast or something, but the idea of Jack waking up to an empty bed… 

No, he’s staying here.

Gently, Mark reaches up to stroke Jack’s cheek. It’s so soft, despite the stubble. He should ask him how he gets his skin to be so soft and smooth.

“Hmm…” A soft sound escapes pink lips, and Jack shifts. His throat bobs as he swallows. Mark holds his breath, and stares, transfixed, as he blinks his eyes open.

It’s a sight he wants to see every morning for as long as he lives. 

“Morning,” Mark whispers, and Jack’s sleepy expression dissipates as he remembers, Mark thinks, the night before.

“Hi,” Jack says, and his voice breaks. It’s adorable.

“Hi.” Mark grins, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. They’re a bit dry, but he doesn’t care. 

“What time is it?” Jack asks, and Mark shrugs.

“Not time to get up yet, though.”

“Oh, really?” 

“Mmh. Way too early to even consider leaving this bed. It would be rude, in fact, to leave this bed,” Mark says. Blue eyes shine with humour, and Jack nods in mock seriousness.

“Ah, well, we mustn’t be impolite, then. Is there an appropriate time for us to leave this bed?”

“I believe that the polite time to leave this bed would be never.”

Jack laughs, then, and it’s a beautiful sound. “Well, never, whilst tempting, is socially unacceptable. I fear we may have to leave early.”

Mark frowns. “There will be consequences, if we do that.”

“Oh dear, and what consequences might we encounter?” Jack grins at him, and Mark looks over his shoulder, as if checking for intruders to their conversation, before leaning close to Jack’s ear.

“I believe the punishment,” he whispers, “is torture.” And Mark digs his fingers into Jack’s sides.

Jack bursts into giggles, wriggling and squealing as Mark tickles him. It’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen, and Mark vows to tickle Jack at least once a week from now on. It’s good for his morale. 

“Mercy, mercy! I give, I give!” Jack splutters, and Mark pulls him into his arms, laughing as he traps Jack against his chest.

“You’re such a doof,” Jack says jokingly, and Mark playfully kisses his cheek in response.

“Takes one to know one. Besides, you love me.” He says it without thinking, and can’t stop himself from tensing up. Jack laughs again, but it sounds forced, and they both fall silent for a bit. 

And Mark’s thinking about it, really thinking, and so many things like distance and Youtube and general crap could make this impossible, but Jack’s right there, in his arms, and Mark…

Mark loves him. He really _loves_ him. And that’s what it comes down to, in the end, doesn’t it? So he takes Jack’s hand, laces their fingers together, and whispers:

“Love you too. And I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Jack pushes back, stares at him in shock. Mark stares right back, takes those baby-blues head on. They’re huge and scared and so, so beautiful. His heart is beating so loud he feels like Jack can hear it. And then those eyes soften, they shine with happy tears, and Jack’s kissing him. His lips are soft and he tastes of salt and sleep, and Mark’s the happiest he’s ever been.

“Are – are ya sure?” Jack asks, pulling back, and Mark nods. It’s such an easy question to answer.

“I want you, I want this. I want to be with you,” he tells him, and Jack’s answering smile is everything.

And yes, Mark has a thing for Jack’s eyes. 

They’re blue, you see.

_They’re so, so blue_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!


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